Raymee Sullivan
Information Name: Raymee Sullivan Nickname: Sometimes called Ray (in reference to her idol Ray Bradbury) Age: 18 DOB: March 1 Hair Color: A mix of dirty blonde and light brown Eye Color: Light Blue Favorite Color: Cyan Blue Favorite Food: Cup O' Noodles, Roast chicken flavor, and Cherry 7UP Hobbies: Reading, writing short stories, helping in her grandmother's garden, and walking her dogs. Career Dream: To become a world-reowned author, like her idol Ray Bradbury Worst Fear: Raymee is afraid of many things, such as darkness, small spaces, being chased, etc; but her one true fear in life is being abandoned and alone. History Raymee is a fairly normal young college girl, just recently flown from the nest and is working on becoming her own person in the world. She is extremely close with her grandmother and was very excited to go on vacation with her Kite City; unfortunately their good time was went up in flames when Raymee unwittingly stumbles across the Red Death with one of his victims and later finds that he has kidnapped her grandmother and demands her presence at his masquerade in exchange for her grandmother's safety. Her hands tied, Raymee agrees to go, and is surprised to find that she is not the only poor soul who has been ensnared within the Red Death's claws. What lies ahead is a mystery, not all is what it seems, there's danger lurking around every corner, and no one is sure they will escape with their lost loved ones, or their lives... ...At the masquerade tonight. Victim In Holding: Her grandmother, Gail. Dress and Mask Raymee's Prologue This is all my fault. All of it. If only I had listened to her, told her before it was too late. But I didn't. And now, I was paying the price for my ignorance. My name is Raymee Sullivan. I am 18 years old. I stand at a meager height of 5 foot nothing, I have short chin-length dirty blonde hair (called 'dishwater blonde' by my friends), blue eyes that are framed by my glasses, freckles that cover nearly every available space on my face, and two dimples that appear only when I smile. I wasn't smiling now. Now, right now, I am my hardest not to cry and vomit simultaneously while I wait for my ride to hell. I'm shaking so hard and it isn't because of the cold. It is taking every ounce of personal will to stay rooted to my spot on the sidewalk and not sprint to the nearest police station and beg for help and protection from the mad man that I am going to see tonight. I know that you all are probably wondering why I am so miserable, so afraid. To ease your confusion, I will tell you. I will tell you how I was cursed by the Red Death. It began about 4 days ago. My grandmother and I were on vacation together and we were visiting Kite City, charmed by the many tourist attractions and museums that were located in the city. This was our bonding time together, just me and her, and it was supposed to be a trip we would remember and look back fondly on. We hadn't known about the killings then. Neither of us watched the news. I was too wrapped up in my own world of college exams and parties and the freedom of no longer being restrained by my mother's petty rules and curfews. My grandmother, dear sweet Gramma, simply did not care for the news and turned her television set to the entertainment channels, disregarding the horrors of the world in favor of episodes of Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. It would be a mistake that was fatal to us both. We had arrived to Kite City by bus and checked into a comfy, but low-cost, Bed and Breakfast. Our trip was to last about a week and a half, and we intended to see all the city had to offer within the time period. For the first few days we wandered around the city, window-shopping, visiting parks, and having an absolutely wonderful time. Though we had to stop every few blocks and let my grandmother rest her feet; Post-Polio Syndrome had reared its ugly head earlier in the year and it had affected my grandmother's ability to walk long distances greatly. I had offered on multiple occasions to push her in a wheelchair but Gramma was stubborn and refused to be 'carted around like a child, she was seventy-three years old and she had been able to walk on her own two feet for that long, so she didn't need any help thank-you-''very''-much.' "Good Lord," Gramma wheezed as we sat at a local bench near a food plaza, "My legs are killing me. What's the point of going to all those physical therapy sessions if they don't do shit for me in situations like this?" "Gramma!" I exclaimed but I wasn't really upset. I tried to hide my poorly concealed laughter at the sight of a young couple who looked at my old grandmother in shock at her blunt cursing. My grandmother didn't really look like the type who would say things like 'shit' or 'damn' but she did. . My grandmother always spoke her mind, boldly and loudly, and whenever she felt like it. It was one of the things that I loved about her the most My grandmother was one of those people who you could tell had been very beautiful when they were younger. I knew this to be true as I had seen many pictures of her and my grandfather in their glory days, and they had made quite a handsome pair. Nowadays, my grandmother always had her hair bleached to a peach-like color and lips and eyes lined with dark red liner; but in the years of her youth she always had always had short curly blond hair, wide blue eyes, and a perfect smile. Many people told me that I looked like a modern replica of my grandmother's younger self, but I didn't think so. My grandfather hadn't been particularly princely-looking, but he had always had this sort of quiet attractiveness that had apparently caught Gramma's eye. He had had short brown hair and calm grey eyes that seemed to turn black when he was angry, a trait Gramma said I inherited from him. I can always picture my grandparents in their youth quite easily, especially since my grandmother carried around a locket with a picture of their wedding picture inside. It was made out of silver and fashioned to look like an old story-book with a heart on the cover, and it opened up to reveal the picture. It had been a present that my grandfather had given Gramma on their first wedding anniversary over 50 years ago, and she has worn it every day since. My grandfather's death 9 years ago had struck Gramma hard, and I had wanted this vacation to not only to be a bonding outing, but a chance to get out of the house that now only contained old memories and empty rooms. I thought it would help bring back the light in her eyes. Oh…oh, if only I had known. I would never have brought Gramma here; I would have dragged her all the way to the other side of the country to keep her away from this. But it's too late now. Far too late. After we had rested for a bit, we decided to head to one of the diners nearby for lunch. We were shown to a booth quickly and were given menus. After telling the waitress our drinks, we scanned the menus for our meal. I was deciding between a Bar-B-Que Burger and a Chicken Salad Sandwich when I heard the newest report from the television the owners had set up at the bar of the diner. "In latest news: the Red Death has been quiet for over a week now. Does this mean a new pattern in his killing spree or is he merely taking a break? The police have refused to answer our questions but have told us that they are hard at work to bring this crazed serial killer to justice." "Serial killer?" I repeated intrigued, "When did all this happen?" I was interested in this shocking turn of events. I was from a small town and not much happened there, so something as big as this was, I ashamed to say, a bit exciting for me. "You mean you don't know?" Our waitress had returned with our drinks and looked at us in shock. We both shook our heads and she continued, "The Red Death. He's this guy that's been murdering people for a while now. And he's totally nuts. He usually burns and mutilates the body with some kind of hot dagger or knife. Pretty gruesome stuff. But he's only been going after politicians and big men in business." She added quickly after seeing the shock on our faces. Our faces belayed different reactions. My grandmother's pale and wary, while mine was etched in a mixture of horror and awe. "Maybe we should head back early." Gramma murmured, looking very disturbed but I protested this idea. I was having fun and I didn't want to go home so early in the week (There was a small art fair that was taking place in the city square tomorrow and I was dying to go), completely ignoring the fact that a mass murderer was running around free in the city we were visiting. "Besides," I grinned cheerfully at my grandmother and took a sip of my strawberry lemonade, "You heard what she said. He's only going after politicians and big company guys. He won't bother with small town tourists like us." My grandmother, after some hesitation and unable to deny her favorite grandchild her fun, agreed to stay for the rest of the week as planned. Selfish. I was so selfish. How could I have been so careless? So stupid? How? Too late…too late… The next day we attended the Kite City Community College Art Fair. Multiple booths and exhibits had been set up all around the square, varying from sculptures to poems to finger painting. Music blared from stereos that had been scattered all around the square. We wandered around for a while, admiring the artistic work of others but before too long Gramma's Post-Polio began slowing her down again and we had to rest. This produced more colorful swears from my grandmother and even more scandalized looks from the people around us. "Honestly," Gramma grumbled as I guided her to a bench, "It seems like I'm just falling apart at the seams. Getting old sucks." I laughed at her bluntness and asked her if she was hungry. She admitted that she was feeling a bit peckish and I walked over to a hot dog vendor and got us both a supreme dog with everything on it and a few sodas. We sat there for a little while, eating our hot dogs and observing the people walking by and just enjoying ourselves. Soon, after downing more than half of my soda, I felt the call of nature. "I'll be right back." I told her and jogged in the direction of where I hoped a restroom would be. I wandered between the booths and clusters of people before I saw a sign pointed that pointed the location of a restroom and ran speedily to it. The restroom was located in the back of an old building and I had to walk in the alleyway that separated it from its neighbor. Large cardboard boxes, newspapers, and empty bottles littered the area and the entire place was cast in shadows; definitely not the place where a young, unprotected girl should be. But I was driven by the pressure in my bladder and ignored these warning signs and quickly ran into the facilities. After finishing my business, I stepped back into the alleyway and began making my way through the garbage when I heard a voice cry out from further up in the alleyway. "W-wait please! Don't h-hurt me! I'll give you anything, money, whatever you want but please, oh God, please don't hurt me!" I froze, my eyes widening. I stood very still and listened carefully. There was the sound of scuttling feet and a soft whompth of a body hitting brick, accompanied with a frightened squeal. Was I witnessing a mugging? Not wanting to be seen I quickly dove behind a small stack of crates that were piled next to the wall, trying to make as little sound as possible. My knees scraped on chunks of gravel and I bit my cheek to keep from crying out. Tentatively, I peeked through the around edge of the crates. A man, dressed in a wrinkled business suit, was pressed up against the wall trembling violently. Thin hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his chest heaved with every breath he took, his face was ghostly pale and his eyes looked about ready to pop from their sockets. Tears ran steadily down his cheeks. Another figure stood very close to the man, but I couldn't see him that well because his entire form was hidden in the dark shadow of the building. However, I could see that he was very tall and wearing some kind of leather get-up. He stood erect and intimidating, staring calmly at his prey, taking pleasure in the man's terror. The man began to cry again, "P-please…I-I got a wife and kids, I never meant to do any harm, I just-" The dark figure interrupted him, "Now, do you really think that I care what you 'just'? Because I don't." I shivered at the sound of the perpetrator's voice. It was deep and seductive, and held a certain silkiness that would have any girl swooning. The rumbling tenor of his vocal cords echoed in the pit of my stomach and made me swallow nervously. I felt my skin break out into goose bumps and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, but not in the good way. Despite the attractiveness of the man's voice, he spoke with a certain…darkness. Like this whole situation was some kind of sick, hilarious joke and he was the only one who knew the punch line. The cornered man struggled pitifully to negotiate with his tormentor, "L-look, we can work something out; is it money you want? Fine! You can have it, all of it; just please, please let me go!" Silence hung in the air for a beat, before a low rumbling broke through the quiet, growing steadily louder with each second. I wondered what the hell it was for a moment before I realized it was coming from the man in the shadows, and just as I thought this, he threw his head back and laughed. It was a deep laugh, even deeper than his voice that pierced my eardrums and made my heart freeze in my chest. I felt every molecule of my being tremble at the obscene cackle, and suddenly knew why I had felt wary of the man's voice. Despite its allure, there was no warmth or benevolence contained within it. It was cold, cruel, frightening, and… …evil. I felt blood in my veins turn to ice. It was at that moment I knew I had stumbled onto something that was not something as simple as a mugging, but something much more dangerous. Much more deadly. And I was standing less than 15 feet away from it. As quickly as the he had begun laughing, the shadowed figure stopped. Though I could not see his face, I could tell that he was looking at the poor soul he had cornered with a look of contempt. "Do you really think I want your money? Well you're wrong, you fool. I don't want your cash. I barely want anything to do with you, but you are a part of my plan. And it's something much bigger than a money scam, baby. Much bigger." I practically felt the smile stretch across the fiend's face, "Now then, let's say we turn up the heat." The man in the suit looked up; his face contorted in terror, and made one last attempt to run to the end of the alleyway. "HEL-" The figure lashed out and caught the man by the back of his collar. With inhuman strength he yanked the man back and threw him forcefully against the wall. I heard a sickening crunch and the man screamed, holding his left arm which was now bent at an awkward angle. I crouched frozen from my spot behind the crates. The air in my lungs vanished and I began to shake as though I were made of jell-o. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the awful scene in front of me and watched in horror as the figure suddenly started humming a jazzy sort of tune, and stood casually over his victim. Suddenly the shadow-filled alleyway was lit up by an eerie red-orange glow that seemed to come from the figure himself. The glowing object was long and curved, looking like some sort of blade, and when the figure rotated his wrist the movements were so fluid it was almost as if it was a part of him. From the dim glow of whatever-it-was, I could see the figure smile down at the whimpering man. It was a gruesome grin that stretched wide from either side of his face, and showed off a set of long crooked, yellow teeth. It was the smile of a monster. The blade began to glow even brighter and I felt the temperature suddenly kick up a few degrees. The figure raised his arm high above his head, like the Grim Reaper raising his scythe- "He usually burns and mutilates the body with some kind of hot dagger or knife." -and brought it down in a single clean swoop. The sound that erupted from the man was mix between a gurgle and a scream. Red burst forth from the blistering wound that ran across his throat and fell from his neck like a waterfall, coloring the once crisp navy of his suit an ugly maroon. His wide eyes rolled back into his head and his body convulsed into violent spasms. I felt my mouth open to scream, but luckily my hands were quicker. I clasped them both firmly over my mouth, gaping in silent terror of the murder taking place before me. The stench of burning flesh and blood invaded my sensitive nostrils and I felt the remnants of my lunch begin creeping up my throat and filling my cheeks. I forced myself to swallow the half-digested beef and bun and merely watched as the figure raised his arm again and brought it down just as quickly. Up and down. Up and down. Again and again and again. This can't be happening. Oh God, this can't be happening! '' Salty tears mercifully blurred my vision and streaked down my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to look on any longer at the macabre act taking place only a few feet away. I listened to the wet ''schulps and sizzles of flesh being burned and torn; and all the while the figure kept humming that same jazz tune as he worked diligently at his task. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he stopped. He stopped humming, he stopped slashing at the man's corpse, he just stopped. Reluctantly I willed myself to open my eyes and face whatever was left of this nightmare. He was still there, standing over the unrecognizable remains of the man he murdered. He seemed to be wiping off the blood he had gotten on his blade (finger?), tsking when the blood wouldn't come off his sleeve. He just stood there casually, as if he hadn't just mercilessly slaughtered someone. Oh…oh my God. That's…so '''sick'.'' Then, for some reason, he abruptly paused in his doings. He tilted his head to the side, as if he were listening for something. And then he suddenly looked right at me. Sucking in a harsh gasp, I slammed my back against the brick wall and curled myself into a tiny ball behind the crates. My heart pounded so hard in my chest, I thought one of my ribs would break. I whimpered and tried to make myself as small as possible. He didn't see me, he didn't see me, he didn't see me, oh God PLEASE don't let him see me. I shut my eyes and choked back a sob. I was waiting. Waiting for…I didn't know. For him to call out and say that he knew I was there? For him to slash me into bloody and burnt ribbons like the poor man before me? Both seemed very possible at this point. I waited for 10 seconds. Then 30. Then a minute. Five more passed before I forced myself to open my eyes. I half-expected him to be standing before me, leering down at me like he had with the man, with that monstrous grin. But he wasn't. Cautiously, I just barely peeked around the corner of the crates and saw…nothing? Well, there was a mangled, bloody corpse on the ground, but no sign of the killer. Did…did he leave? ''I thought, amazed. ''H-he must have not seen me… I stood slowly, my knees like bobble-heads, wobbling and shaky. I looked carefully around the alley. Nothing. He was gone. Relief flooded me and a breathe I hadn't realized I had been holding left in a whoosh. Thankful tears spilled from my eyes and a shaky grin found its way to my face. He was gone. I was safe. …Oh if only it had been that simple… You will have to forgive me for the next few paragraphs. I was in shock at the time and my thought process was completely shot. The events that occurred between that moment and the incident that would happen later that night are lost to me, but I will try to tell you what I do remember. I apologize if they seem a bit jumbled. I remember stumbling back to where my grandmother was waiting (I had taken a longer route around the building to avoid the body) and sitting myself shakily next to her. "There you are. You were gone a long time, I was getting worried." My grandmother remarked. I mumbled an apology and stared vacantly at the booths and people who passed us. I wasn't looking at anything in particular; I was just…looking. I jumped nearly a foot in the air when I felt a hand on mine. I whirled around to see Gramma frowning at me in concern. "Raymee, sweetheart, are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost." I want to say something. I want to tell her that it wasn't a ghost I saw, it was a murder. A horrible, bloody, grisly murder done in cold blood. I wanted to tell her that I had seen him. The Red Death. Yes, I was sure it was him. It couldn't have been anyone else. It couldn't have. Nobody else could have been capable of something like that. No one. "Raymee?" I open my mouth (It was him, I saw him, I saw him kill a man, I wanna go home) and lie. "I…just saw something really gross in the girl's bathroom. That's all." My grandmother made a sound of disgust, "Oh those public restrooms are just awful. You remembered to wash your hands, didn't you?" "Yes, Gramma." "And put paper on the seat?" "Of course." I don't know why I lied to her. Maybe I was too afraid to speak of it, as though just mentioning it would cause the killer to appear and slaughter us both. Maybe I was too deep in shock to say anything. Maybe I was in denial. (Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could I have not told her!! How?!) I glance down at my grandmother's hand, who had yet to take it off mine. It's an odd sight to see them together, our hands. Two hands, one old, one young. One with taut pale skin, uneven fingernails and pink knuckles; the other with nails painted bright red, skin thin like tissue paper, and blue veins protruding rather unsightly against the skin. I stare at the princess cut diamond on my grandmother's wedding ring, and watched it glisten in the daylight. "-just too violent for me." "Huh? What?" I had been zoning out and missed what she had been saying completely. "This music," My grandmother said, tilting her head towards one of the stereos with a look of distaste on her face, "It's much too loud, too violent for me. Talk about disease and hate. Dreadful, simply dreadful." "Oh…" I strain my ears to listen to the music she is talking about and almost immediately recognize the song and the group who sang it. It was on my iPod. I can see inside you, the sickness is rising Don't try to deny what you feel (Will you give in to me?) It seems that all that was good has died And is decaying in me (Will you give in to me?) It seems you're having some trouble In dealing with these changes Living with these changes (oh no) The world is a scary place Now that you've woken up the demon in me If we had turned to look to our right, past the pottery booth and teenage couple who were busy swapping saliva, we would have seen a figure, covered in the shadows watching us. We would have seen the ugly smile that revealed long crooked teeth and heard the deep chuckle that came from their throat. But we didn't. And as quickly as the figure had appeared, it was gone. Get up, come on get down with the sickness Get up, come on get down with the sickness Get up, come on get down with the sickness Open up your hate, and let it flow into me Get up, come on get down with the sickness You mother get up come on get down with the sickness You fucker get up come on get down with the sickness Madness is the gift, that has been given to me ……………………….. Later that night we returned to our room at the Bed and Breakfast. I had not improved much from my shell-shocked state and my grandmother was officially worried. "Gramma, I told you, I'm fine." I protested as she placed the back of her hand on my forehead for the 12th time that night. My grandmother pursed her lips and stared at me. "Raymee, you've been quiet all day and you barely ate a thing at dinner. Are you sure you're not coming down with some kind of bug or virus?" (Oh the irony) I sighed and sagged my shoulders in defeat. I still hadn't the courage to tell her what had ruined the day for me. Ruined our entire vacation. I just didn't know what to say to her… "…Maybe I am getting sick." I muttered and Gramma nodded sympathetically. She guided me to the one of the twin beds in our room. She had me get under the covers and pulled the blankets up to my chin. She stroked my hair and smiled kindly at me, "Just lie down for a little bit, sweetie. I'm going to run to the corner store down the street and get you some ginger ale to settle your stomach. It was probably those damn hot dogs." I managed a weak laugh and she got her purse and walked to the door. Gramma smiled at me again, "I'll be back soon." She told me and closed the door behind her. I snuggled into the starchy sheets and willed myself to relax. Surprisingly I felt myself slip into sleep rather quickly, I must had been more exhausted than I thought. It was then that the dreams began. It had started out nicely enough. I had been walking along a moonlit path, going nowhere in particular. I wandered along this road for a bit when up ahead I saw a castle. Entranced I ran up to the gates that opened up automatically for me. Inside was a great ballroom. It was beautiful with marble floors and a ceiling that was designed to look like the night sky. It was then that I noticed I was not alone. A group of girls were there with me, each dressed in beautiful gowns and wearing masks on their faces. I smiled and began to walk over to them but something made me stop. Something was wrong. While all the girls looked beautiful, they all looked miserable as well. Each wore an expression of gloom on their faces, some were even weeping. They looked up to see me and their mouths formed 'O's in surprise. Their eyes widened and began making frantic motions with their hands, as if they were trying to tell me something but I couldn't understand. "What are you trying to tell me?" I asked them. They all looked desperate now, and one in a mint green dressed opened her mouth to reply when a look of horror came onto her face. The others also formed horrified expressions on their faces and cried out in fear. Suddenly the beauty of the ballroom was shattered as the room was cast in a dark red light. Blood began dripping down the walls and the girls were sobbing and screaming now. I heard a dark chuckle behind me, but I couldn't move. Strong hands gripped my arms from behind me and they burned. I cried out and tried to pull away but the grip was like a vice. The burning worsened and I felt hot breath behind my ear. A sultry, deep voice whispered from behind me. "Let's turn up the heat, baby." I woke with a start, gasping and feeling as though I was on fire. I kicked off the sheets and sat up on the bed. I looked down at my hands and saw them trembling. Tears pricked at my eyes and I hugged myself around the middle. "I can't do this." I whispered. This was too much to take. I couldn't deal with it. I was only 18 years old, just barely out of the nest. I needed to go home. I needed my mother. I needed to tell Gramma the truth. But where was she? I glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand between the two beds. My brow furrowed and I frowned. I had been asleep for over an hour now. "Gramma?" I called out. No answer. I got up from the bed and walked over to the bathroom. I knocked on the door. "Gramma? You in there?" I opened the door. Empty. Feeling a bit anxious, I walked downstairs to the lobby and went to the front desk. "Excuse me," I asked the desk man, "Did you see my grandmother recently?" He told me he hadn't and the anxious feeling escalated. I began jogging back to our room, taking out my cell phone. I punched in my grandmother's cell number and swore when it went straight to voicemail. "Dammit Gramma, what's the point of having a cell phone if you never remember to charge it?" I strode over to our room and used my key to unlock the door. I stepped inside and heard the sound of crinkling paper. "Huh?" I looked down at my feet and saw an envelope underneath my shoe. I picked it up and frowned. This wasn't here when I left the room… The envelope was a creamy color and had a traditional red wax seal in the shape of a…skull? And written on the front in elegant cursive, I realized and felt a chill go down my spine, was my name. Biting my lower lip, I walked over to a chair and sat down. Looking over the envelope again, I (with much hesitation) broke the seal and read the folded paper inside. To Miss Raymee Sullivan You are formally invited to a masquerade ball, being held at '''''Prospero'' ''Castle'' tomorrow evening. Formal dress is required, refreshments will be provided, and you must have a mask. I look forward to your arrival. ~R.D.'' That was it? No RSVP? No choice on whether to RSVP? What the hell was this? Riiiiiiiing. Riiiiiiiing. Riiiiiiiing. I was startled out of my musings by the sound of my cell phone going off. Whipping it out, I looked at the caller ID and felt immense relief when I saw Gramma on the screen and answered immediately. "Gramma! Where are you; you've been gone for over an hour?!" I received silence on the other end, but knew someone was there; I could hear them breathing. I began to sweat and swallowed a lump in my throat. "Gramma? C'mon answer me, this isn't funny-" I was cut off by the sound of humming. Someone humming…''jazz''. I felt my heart sail to the pit of my stomach and my breathing became ragged. I began to tremble again and I gripped my phone tightly in my hand. "…Gramma?" I whispered. A deep chuckle came from the receiver and made all the hairs on my body stand on end. "Sorry baby, Granny can't come to the phone right now, can I take a message?" I felt my heart stop. Then, soon after, I felt it begin to race. For the longest moment, I couldn't speak. It felt as though someone had wrapped their hands around my throat, constricting my breathing and ability to speak. I swallowed again and whispered hoarsely, "…Who is this?" My voice was shaking as badly as I was. "C'mon, baby. You know who this is." '' I was hyperventilating now. Fear wrapped its icy arms around me, making me quiver. My mouth suddenly felt very dry and sweat rushed from every pore on my body. ''"Aw, what's wrong, baby? You sound scared. Were you having a bad dream? You sure looked like it when I came to visit you." I leapt to my feet gasping. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head as I spun around, looking for the perpetrator. He was in our room?! He was watching me SLEEP?!? Another deep chuckle came from the phone, "Relax sweetcheeks. I'm not there right now. Not unless you want me to be." ''He gave a short laugh. I shook in anger, fear, and embarrassment. "What do you ''want?" I hissed, still glancing at every corner and potential hiding spot in the room. "Hmm, straight to the point. I like that." He purred and I shuddered. "As for what I want…you got my invitation didn't you?" I stared at the piece of paper I still had clutched in my hand. I crushed it in my fist. Of course. R.D. Red Death. "Yes." I said lowly. "Well I think it should be pretty obvious then. I want you to come to my little get-together. Aren't you a lucky girl." He cooed. I felt a spark of anger at his conceited tone. "And if I refuse to come?" I asked sounding much braver than what I felt. He made a 'hmm' sound. "Hmm, well then…I suppose I'll just have to… tear Granny-dearest into little bloody ribbons." I stopped breathing. The air temperature in the room seemed to drop to below freezing. "You're lying!" I blurted and grimaced when I heard him snicker. "Look on your granny's pillow." I did as he asked and gasped. I walked slowly over to the bed where my grandmother slept, dread filling me as I got closer. It's a fake. A replica. There's no way that it's… I stopped when I reached the bed. I stared down at the pillow where my grandmother's locket lay. I picked it up gingerly and ran my thumb over the top. It felt cold in my hand. With a trembling flick of my thumb, I opened it. A young couple, colored in black and white, smiled up at me. The woman was dressed in a flowing white gown with flowers in her hair, her head resting on the young man's shoulder. The man was wearing a black tux and had an arm wrapped around the woman's waist. The look on their faces belayed a message that practically yelled, "I am young and so unbelievably in love with the person next to me." On the inside of the cover there was a small engraved message: '''''To my dearest Gail, I love you more than the sun, moon, and stars combined, I cherish every moment we share; both the good and the bad, And I thank God for every morning I get to wake up with you beside me, Happy first anniversary my kitten, And here's to a hundred more, Forever yours, James'' My vision blurred with tears as I stared at my grandfather's declaration of love. I felt my knees give out and I collapsed to the carpeted floor. Mewling sobs worked their way up my throat and past my lips, my shoulders shook with each cry. I heard my tormentor laugh cruelly in my ear. "Your grandfather was a real sap, wasn't he? Spouting poetry like some lovesick teenager-" Rage instantly replaced the grief, "Don't you dare badmouth Grampa, you son of a bitch!" I snarled into the phone. He was silent for a moment before he spoke again. "Now, now baby. Don't be going around hurting my feelings; I might have to take it out on your dear, sweet granny…" ''The threat hung in the air. "NO!" I screamed, "Please don't hurt Gramma! Oh, oh please, just leave her ''alone." "Then tell me you're sorry, baby. And say it like you mean it." I closed my eyes, overwhelmed with misery and humiliation. I lowered my forehead to the carpet and grit my teeth, tears still escaping my closed lids. "I'm sorry…" I whispered and he made a sound of approval. "Now was that so hard?" He teased me, "Now back to the matter at hand: You. Ball. Dress. Tomorrow night." "B-but I don't have a dress," I sputtered, "And I don't know where Prospero Castle is, I'm just a tourist-" "I'll have a cab come pick you up." He interrupted smoothly, "And as for the dress…look in the closet." I stood shakily and walked to the closet near the beds. I pulled open the door and gasped. A long gown hung on a hanger in the closet. Carefully I took it out and held it up to me. It was long, sleeveless, and had a high neck. The torso was colored a deep blue, with silver dots and blue flower beads near the collar. The waist was white and also had flower beads and silver dots. The bottom was colored a light blue that faded upward until it reached the white of the waist. It was designed a bit like a halter dress, and I say a bit because there was no back, but two thin strands connected to the back of the collar that were also attached to these 'wings' that went along with the dress. They connected to two silver-sequin cuffs that were meant to go around the wrists and were also colored a faded light blue. Under any other circumstances, I would have found the dress gorgeous. But considering who it came from and what it was for, I thought it was the most repulsive thing I had ever seen. I looked back in the closet and saw on the bottom a white mask with a dark blue lace rim with a blue rose attached next to the right eyehole and a pair of white ballet flats. A small box of disposable contacts was placed next to these items as well. So I can wear the mask… I thought bitterly, feeling disgusted and irritated. "Speechless are we, baby? I knew you'd like it. Goes so nicely with your eyes." I ground my teeth. "Anything else?" I hissed, growing angrier by the second. "Actually yes, there is." He replied, and suddenly all friendliness was gone from his voice, ''"If you contact anyone or ask for help from anybody, I will know. And as punishment I will peel all the flesh from your grandmother's body. Inch by inch. Then I will saw off her hands and feet, and slowly disembowel her. And I will make you watch '''every moment of this. By the time I'm finished, our friend in the alleyway will look cute by comparison. Do you understand?"'' His description of what he would do to my grandmother left me breathless. All the anger was gone now, replaced by misery and submission. "Yes…" I said quietly. "Good girl." he cooed. "Be ready at ''9 p.m.' sharp. See you there, baby, and remember: I'm always watching."'' Then the line went dead. I stared blankly at the phone in my hand for a moment. The next I was rushing towards the bathroom, expelling the small contents of my stomach as an offering to the porcelain god, John. Needless to say, I didn't sleep at all that night, and I was wide awake all the way through the next day. My behaviors alternated between bawling my eyes out, to cursing my terrorist to hell and back, to staring miserably at my grandparents' photo. Fear of what tonight would bring left me paralyzed and shaken with terror. What would he do to me? What did he really want? Merely attending his party was too simple. Too easy. He had to have something bigger planned. And that terrified me. "Grampa…what do I do?" I asked the picture. The man said nothing and remained smiling, frozen in time inside the locket. I couldn't begin to tell you how badly I wanted to just run away. To take the next bus out of town and never look back. But I couldn't. I wouldn't. For if I left now, that would leave Gramma, my old loving Gramma, in the hands of that beast. And that was, for sure, a death sentence. I would rather die in place of someone I loved, rather than someone I loved dying for my cowardice. When 8 p.m. rolled around, I began getting ready for the party. When I pulled on the articles I had been left, I was more than a little disturbed when they all fit me like a glove (How the HELL had he known my size?). I was just about to leave when my cell phone rang. I snatched it off the nightstand and answered with a hurried, "Hello?!" "Raymee?" "Mama?" I asked astonished. It had felt like years since I had heard my mother's voice and it gave me a sense of homesickness. "How are you sweetheart? Are you guys having fun?" I felt a wave of uncertainty wash over me. I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to tell her that no, we were not having fun because Gramma got kidnapped by a murdering sociopath who was blackmailing me to go to a party of his which may or may not be the death of me, and to call the freaking National Guard to come and save our asses. But I couldn't. ''"Remember, I'm always watching…" So I lied. "Yup, we're having a great time. Went to the art fair yesterday, had lots of fun." I forced myself to sound cheerful. It hurt. "Is your grandmother there, I wanted to-" "She's sleeping." I interrupted her quickly. Then suddenly, I realized something. This could be the very last time I speak with my mother. The very last time… A tear fell from my eye and ran down my mask. "Mama?" "Yes?" "I love you…so much…" "…I love you too sweetheart." '' I felt my throat closing up. I needed to end this. "Mama…I-I gotta go now; there's someone at the door." ''"…Okay, sweetheart. Give Gramma my love. I'll see you both in a few days." ''And we hung up. I take Gramma's locket in my hands and clasped it around my neck. It feels heavy. Three minutes later, I'm standing on the curb, waiting for the taxi that would lead me to my fate. I looked up at the sky and saw the crescent moon. And for a moment, I could've sworn it was red. Red like blood. Suddenly a cab pulled up and a man opened the door for me. He smiled amiably at me. "Fee's already been paid, so I'm taking ya straight there. Wow, don't you look fancy! Going to a party?" "Yes." Probably my last. I climb in and watch the street lamps from the window. ''Grampa…help me. God…save me… Somebody… …anybody… Save me.